by Liz Young
(Based on John 1:29-42; Isa 49:1-7; Ps 40:1-14; 1 Cor 1:1-9)
In Chapter 49 Isaiah writes, “I will give you as a light to the nations, that my salvation shall reach to the end of the earth.”
In Psalm 40 the psalmist sings, “I waited patiently for the Lord … He put a new song in my mouth, a song of praise to my God. Happy are those who put their trust in the Lord.”
And in 1 Corinthians Paul writes, “God is faithful; by him you were called into the fellowship of his Son, Jesus Christ Our Lord.”
Paul is writing to a group of friends who probably had to meet semi-surreptitiously, but this had not stopped them from helping Paul when he was overwhelmed by trouble. And he admits that he had had a sense of impending disaster, but that he used that time and that fear, to learn to trust not in himself, but in God, a God who could raise the dead.
Do we have that trust? That faith that he, God, will provide the right answer, and the strength to overcome fear, and the wisdom to do what is right?
What other messages do we get from these readings? Both the Psalmist and Isaiah ask the Lord, give us a vision to hold on to, a vision that gives us hope for the future. As so often, and as in past times, today we seem surrounded by wars and greed – greed for power, greed for money. Let us in our worship today hope for a future where truth is honoured and not distorted; where we expect to receive and give kindness; where we trust in the Lord.
Apart from the visit to the Temple there are few stories of Jesus’s childhood: those years when children develop their moral compass, their understanding, their ability to share. In the Gospel story we are taken straight from infancy to manhood.
Many in this congregation have been teachers, who’ve had thirty different personalities to guide each year through ages 4-18, helping each child reach his or her full potential. What would you have felt if you had a Jesus child in your class?! Would you have realised his potential? How would you have nurtured him?
How easy is it to recognise a child’s adult potential in our own children?
John baptises Jesus in the river Jordan, a symbolic cleansing with water, and then says, “It is true I have not recognised him, but now I realise that here is the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world. This is he of whom I said, ‘After me comes a man who ranks ahead of me, because he was before me’”.
It must have been odd for John to suddenly recognise Jesus, his cousin and probably his childhood play mate, as a teacher greater than him, and potentially the Messiah. Or perhaps he’d had inklings, even as a child. I think I might have realised that Jesus was special, but I would have been too self- absorbed, to value him. How often do we recognise a person’s adult potential, when we and they are children? When I think back on my happy childhood and playmates, it was not until I was fifteen or so that I made friends that I have valued, and who have lasted my lifetime.
One commentary I read focused on Jesus being the Lamb of God, a symbol of sacrifice, rather than a lion, the symbol of strength that we understand the Jews were hoping for at that time. The Lamb was a symbol of sacrifice, a foretelling of Jesus’s ultimate sacrifice for us on the cross. Three years seems such a short time, to make such a lasting impression. We wonder at how much love he showed to his friends, the disciples, nurturing them, while at the same time, healing the sick, the mentally traumatised, the ignored and the downtrodden over the three years of his ministry.
Paul must have studied Jesus’s life closely as he was persecuting his followers. (It’s important to know your enemy.) How frustrating it must have been for Paul to only hear stories of good. How was his subconscious reacting to these stories, preparing him for his conversion? That moment when his views of Jesus and his followers turned upside down?
Paul was called, invited or appointed to be an apostle, and he reminds us that not only was he called, but so are the non-Jewish Corinthians and spiritually hungry others, then and over the next two thousand years.
Fellowship here at St Francis, our little church, means trusting that our friends support us in our worship – when we swap rosters, when we preach in different styles, use different versions of the Bible – and that we trust our friends will support us when we are grieving, unwell or forgetful; but also when we share the joys of hospitality and happy conversations.
And we will continue to trust that God will empower us to follow his will … and to trust that children using the pontoon [in our local estuary – Ed] will look before they leap!
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